


Inevitable Union

by NestPlaster



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, Racist Language, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestPlaster/pseuds/NestPlaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cycle of violence recurs every 30 years -- but is there another cycle hidden deeper within the pattern?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable Union

September 1873 -- City of Baltimore

* * *

Eugene

I pull my cloak closer around me to stave off the biting chill of the fall wind. The city smells, a mixture of the rich odor of horse manure and the seething mass of humanity that busies themselves in the streets. As night falls there is a hint of frost in the air, a promise of the long winter to follow, yet I endure joyously to catch a glimpse of my love. They emerge in a crowd, yet stand out as if a beacon from heaven illuminates them, raising them above the crowd -- I catch a lock of curled hair, a flash of porceline skin, an eye crinkled in a smile at an unheard joke -- and then the moment passes as quickly as it came as they pass behind a carriage, swallowed by the crowd, the rush of people dispersing into the streets at the end of the working day.

Warmed by the moment I forget the wind, forget the weather, forget the inevitable turn of the seasons, and I can feel my heart race and my pulse pound as I focus in on the memory of a smile glimpsed, the corner of a lip turned up in jest.

* * *

Fox

I am scribing with haste and unsightly blots appear throughout my writing; no matter, the message must overcome these minor blemishes and be heard I'm certain. My superiors have discounted the death of the haberdasher as the acts of a savage in town, certain enough to be dealt with by the Lord if not caught in future mischief, and they must be made aware of the pattern. God may well punish in his own time, but man need not wait for that.

News from last night of another redskin found dead by his people, the body horribly mauled and the organs scattered. They blame the mystical creatures of their primitive faith much as my colleagues appeal to our own God, but neither explain that this is the third viscous murder in a fortnight, each with the internals of the victim brutalized and extracted from the trunk. Surely there is a reason for this, now -- something that the modern techniques of the scientific method may yet illuminate, if only I am allowed the time to work on it.

My superiors insist that I focus on the political distraction of a small worker dispute at the docks, but the minor violence there has been balanced and not nearly on par with these vile acts of murder. If I can only make them appreciate the significance.

* * *

Eugene

The gentle caress of candlelight highlights my love's skin as they pull a nightshirt over their shoulders, the fabric cascading down over the planes of their shoulder and the curve of their spine. I exhale mournfully as they are covered, and feel a shiver run through my frame that has nothing to do with the chill of the night.

A heavy wool blanket conceals the rest of their body up to the chin, only the hint of nose and cheekbones visible through a cascade of red hair, and finally they extinguish the candle to fall into a blissful sleep, beautiful in their innocence, their face wiped clean of the worries of the day. I adjust my grip on the windowsill and my own body creaks and settles as I start to draw back into the shadows. There is no more to see here, tonight, and my love is safe for the moment, safe from the violence of the city, waiting for my return.

* * *

Dana

Mr. Mulder drops off his outgoing correspondence in a hurry as always, polite but incomplete. I point out that he is still dating the letterhead 1872, although it is well into September of the following year -- incredible! -- yet he hurries out of the office with a muttered apology and I believe a request that I correct it. I am tempted to let the error stand, but reach for my quill despite myself. I know that his haste is borne of a great care for his work, however misguided his judgement may be, and not a lack of respect for myself or my post.

Corrected I quickly blot the papers and wave them in the air to dry, for like clockwork Mr. Mulder has dropped his correspondence off only shortly before the telegraph operator is due to depart for the evening. With all of the excitement at the docks I am sure that a days delay will not be deemed acceptable. I have heard talk in the office that the workers are to be put in their place shortly, and certainly do not want to have any part in disrupting that most necessary maintenance of the social order.

* * *

Eugene

The moon looms in the sky like an eye staring down at us all, throwing shadows in the dark corners of the city despite the gas lighting along the main streets and avenues, and I feel like it is observing the events of the evening with the respect they are due, which is great. My joints shiver and creak as they settle after my climb to the rooftops, and I feel my body tensed, my senses sharp, my muscles taunt and ready. The stars have aligned and whatever gods watch over us must approve.

My love steps around the corner into the alley, and I fall to the ground as silent as the night.

* * *

Fox

I pull my cloak closer around me to stave off the biting chill of the fall wind. Even sheltered by the alley we catch a bit of spray from the harbour, and the body still shows some signs of the frost of the night. This provides some evidence that the man was killed early, giving the extremities time to cool over the night, a fact lost on my colleagues who are focused on hiding their smiles rather than searching for clues.

My colleagues shuffle around and hold back the people and make comments about how he must have finally made a little too much noise for someone, speaking loud enough for the gathering crowd to hear, making sure the message gets through, even if it wasn't us that killed him this time. The murder is gruesome, too much for us, and I can only hope that we aren't assumed responsible. Fear is a powerful tool when dealing with the lesser mind, but can also prompt action if used without appropriate moderation.

I stand over the body and through the extensive wounds to the abdomen I see far more space than i would expect, as if the poor soul has been hollowed right out. God knows there is enough blood on the walls for a surgery. Before I can investigate further the wagon arrives to take him away -- a good Christian if not a good worker, they'll make sure he is put in the ground properly, and watch to see which workers visit the grave.

* * *

Eugene

My blood pumps faster, warmer, I feel like surely they can see my veins luminescent against my skin yet nobody turns to look, they never turn to look at me. I stride with purpose now, taller and stronger, almost at full strength. The docks heave and surge with a mass of humanity, and it is a miracle that I see her through the crowd, the merest glimpse -- a shock of red hair under a cap, rosy cheeks, the delicate curve of the nose, and she is swallowed by the masses as soon as she was revealed but I will find her again. I will find you, my love.

* * *

Dana

With the leader of the workers struck down I must assume the notion of a union is at least delayed. My path takes me through the docks and the morning crowd is agitated and nervous. I am jostled more than once while navigating the boulevard, but not with malice, as I believe everyone is far too invested in the drama of the past night to take notice of me -- although I can not help but feel at points like I am being watched intently by some force I can not pick out of the crowd, no matter my attempts.

The men of the office are celebrating with drink despite the early hour. I see Fox stride in and it is all I can do to catch his attention for the reply from Chicago. He skims the telegram and drops it back on my desk, despite the warning in the message, despite the request to re-align his work with that of the agency, and wordlessly strides back into the dark recesses of the building. I worry for his future with the agency, and at the same time am curious as to what drives him to such destructive behaviour.

* * *

Eugene

My love, my true love, she strides down the street with purpose, shining in the light of the rising sun. Strong as I am now I can hear her stocking clad legs rasping against each other beneath her skirts, hear her pulse rise as miscreants burst forth from a tavern nearby, I swear that despite the distance I can smell her sweet breath, taste the beads of perspiration forming in her bodice as she races forward suddenly and darts inside.

I fall back, savouring the moment, and my body presses into the structures of the city, forming itself to the fading shadows, keeping me safe and hidden as I find my way back to safety.

* * *

Dana

The men have been filing updates all day as they track the ongoing organization of the labourers, keeping track of who is speaking with who in even the most trivial and passing of manners, in an attempt to surface any future troubles before they rise to a crisis again. The work load is high but I am certainly more than capable of finding order in their scattered reports and half-baked scratches, more so than any of these so called agents. I must confess, however, that in my enthusiasm I lost track of the time, and find myself leaving the office rather later than is appropriate for my station.

The lamps are lit as I leave the building, and I turn down an escort from the remaining agents, for my walk is not over-long and any trouble will certainly be focused around the docks at this time. Although all reason suggests that I will be safe I found myself unusually nervous, and feel as though all eyes are on me as I navigate the streets.

* * *

Eugene

She is so beautiful it is all I can do to remain aware of my surroundings, to squeeze and slide through the hidden spaces, to remain in sight and watch and worship. I would like to lose myself in her, her porcelain skin, her fiery hair, her emerald eyes. Her confidence and poise reflects and counters my own weird grace, and she shines in the sun as much as I excel in the shadows. I grow obsessed, my pulse quickens, and the minutes bleed together until finally the moment is right, and I can fall out of the darkness into her radiance and become one...

* * *

Fox

My fellows have lost sight of the forest for the trees, and lose themselves in watching dock workers mingle and mix in idle conversation, imagining world changing events in every exchange. I know that they have moved past the most significant data we have -- the murder on the docks and the deplorable condition of the body.

Ms Scully is doing an admirable job of compiling what data is being submitted and in the guise of validating her work I am able to sift through the collated information; however it is all for naught and I come up empty despite a full day of contemplation. As Ms Scully leaves I see no reason to stay longer myself, and follow shortly thereafter, lost in thought.

Only a few blocks from our office I am roused from my thoughts by a scream, and look up to an empty street save for a fleeting glimpse of something vanishing into an alley.

* * *

Eugene

One of them was closer than I thought, and I must flee with my love in arm, cooling as I scramble to safety, but the deed is done and a warm wave of satisfaction settles over me.

The fall wind whistles and howls with a biting chill but it can not touch me here in my sanctum, surrounded by memories and mementoes. Soon I will sleep, and dream of my loves.


End file.
